As the child of a Holocaust survivor (and a war child delivering goods to the ghetto) your mind naturally wanders off in all sorts of directions and goes off on all kinds of tangents, one of them being, what were those times like? Were there any signs and – perhaps more importantly – how would it have affected me and what if anything would I have done? We all want to be the heroes in the stories we dream and live but when it comes to generational guilt and trauma, those wishes and ideals intensify.
Tag: identity
My Intro to Poland
My relationship with Poland has led me to clearly distinguish between relatives and family. Relatives I’m connected to by blood (due to unfortunate events) whereas my family are the people I choose to have around me and who have chosen me in turn, people I love and am able to trust completely. People who will leave no stone unturned in lifting you up and display no hesitation when it comes to letting you know when you stepped out of line, and then support you all the way through.
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